


Sky Full

by Silence_Speaker



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: And rain., Fluff and Smut., Lots and lots of rain., M/M, basically porn without plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:17:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2113086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silence_Speaker/pseuds/Silence_Speaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porn, seriously, just...vanilla porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sky Full

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _One of my few bulletproof turn-ons, meme, is Douglas completely losing his customary control. So often, he's written as a man who stays composed for the most part during sexual shenanigans, with Martin as the one whose composure goes to shreds in seconds. I have no problems with this whatsoever, but I'd just really like to see a fic where we get to see Douglas visibly affected when he's presented with a gorgeous, willing Captain, beyond the usual (brilliant) dirty talk. It doesn't have to be top!Martin, it doesn't have to be unravelled from the start, and if Martin is still easily driven to gasping that is more than fine with me. Honestly, anything's good, just leave Martin (and me!) thinking "wow, I did this to him, ME of all people"._
> 
>  
> 
> _tldr: Douglas loses his composure during sexy times with Martin much more easily than his Sky God (TM) side would have you believe._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Smut. Nothing else. Oh! A smidgeon of fluff.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Cabin Pressure or this prompt. Woe is me.

#

 

The rain drummed against the smooth glass of the window, splattered groups of water merging and separating in gentle streams of movement.

Thunder rumbled in the distance like a grumpy giants snore.

Martin peered outside at the damp trees, limp with water nonetheless standing tall and strong. The grass, greener than green, glistened, bouncing back after every pellet of forceful rain, peaceful despite the torrent.

He sighed against the glass, watching it fog up then slowly the mist dissipated as he took a sip of tea from his steaming mug.

Time seemed to still inside the house and, unable to sit still, Martin got to his feet placing the half empty mug on the coffee table before walking to the other side of the house and looking out the windows there.

A hushed sense of expectation filled him and he barely refrained from pacing. Instead he fiddled with the drawstring of his loose, comfy pyjama bottoms and wandered back to his original spot. Something about these types of storms always made him restless, itchy under his own skin for movement, anything to combat the dampened tranquillity.

He breathed into the still warm cup but didn’t take a sip. He didn’t really feel like tea but he had needed to do _something_ with his hands. He leaned against the window and sighed, drowsiness tugged at his eyelids but he was too keyed up to sleep.

The continuous sound of raindrops hitting the ground, window, roof, everything filled the room. Martin fancied he could have been a statue for all the noise and movement he had, a statue except for the small rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and the steam curling up from the mug still clutched in his hands.

“What are you doing up?” A softly grumbled voice asked as a warm body sidled up behind him and pressed up against his back. Sleep heavy arms draped around his waist before stealing his tea and pilfering a sip.

Martin felt a smile curve his lips and he leaned back against the solid weight relishing in the simple human contact.

“Watching the rain.” He answered simply. He felt more than heard the movements behind him that signalled Douglas had put the tea cup down. “The visibility for flying would be rather-”

He was cut off as large hands gently, always gently, turned him, he tipped his face up and a mouth descended against his own.

The kiss was languid, slow lazy motions of tongue and lips. The hot press of that deep cavern all at once familiar and novel. 

Martin knew Douglas was kissing him so he didn’t start talking about planes so in retaliation he opened his mouth in welcome, teasing licks to the other tongue pressing against his mouth, drawing him in before his teeth gently clamped against the tongue, making sure not to press too hard, before he sucked on the invading muscle.

Martin couldn’t repress a grin as a shiver passed through Douglas. The kiss broke softly, both unwilling to let that wet warmth escape them for too long.

Large hands pressed against his lower back, pulling him into an embrace. He breathed in the scent of cotton, that clean smell that always lingered the first night after the sheets had been washed, and underlying all the smells of the day – tea, coffee, faint hints of mint toothpaste, lemon shower gel – was a musk that Martin associated purely with Douglas.

His own arms, wrapped around the firm torso, only a small amount of pleasing softness here and there, hands splayed about the broad back.

Martin didn’t know how long they stood there, intertwined, as the rain pounded on in the unmatchable rhythm of life, but it didn’t matter.

A hand moved, briefly Martin mourned the loss of the warmth, and gripped the bottom of his chin, tilting up his face so a small chaste peck could be placed on his lips.

Martin smiled, stepping out of the hug and taking one of Douglas’ hands in his own before leading them back to their shared bedroom.

The soft carpet sank down with each barefoot step he took and the warm mahogany wooden bookshelves completed the picture as they made their way through the hall. The sight of his own battered books mingled amongst the marginally neater collections that were Douglas’ reading topic of choice never failed to send a small amount of warmth bubbling inside his stomach. It was just one sign of how their life slotted together.

He pulled an unresisting Douglas until they stood by the bed. His hands rose of their own volition to that soft hair and he rose on his tiptoes to once again mesh their mouths together in a slick slide of warring tongues and dry lips.

This kiss was infinitely different to the one before although just as pleasant.

This one was faster, unrelenting and hot in the best of ways. This one might have been sloppier with haste (Martin would hesitate to call it 'sloppy') but it was a promise of _more_.

Noses bumped and brushed and Martin felt the tickle of an eyelash not his own sweeping across his skin.

Sparks burned under his skin and his hands tightened, one tangling in hair the other squeezing a firm shoulder itching to trace beneath the thin long sleeved t-shirt and touch skin barred to him.

It seemed Douglas was on the same page as him because almost before he knew it Martin found his t-shirt pulled over his head as their lips broke contact for an agonising second. He made sure Douglas too lost his shirt before they once again pressed together, chest to chest (and it was oh so nice to have bare skin this time, so much more tantalising) and their lips locked.

It was nearly too much, too heady, lips playing a delicate burning tune to a dance he was always three steps behind in, fingers fumbling for skin, any skin, just more swathes of soft-strong easily indented flesh, the coarse hair of their chests chaffing and, occasionally, a bitten back gasp of pleasure as their nipples rolled against another body.

It was exhilarating, the smoulder of arousal building in his gut, razing everything, every thought, whisper of touch not in the present, away, leaving not even ashes to mark their presence.

He was reduced to the now, to firm then yielding lips, caresses of the tongue, teasing touches that turned to the press of the pads of their fingers and heat, such warmth, another body against his own.

He would have felt embarrassed at the hungry way his mouth was wordlessly asking for more had not Douglas been in the same position.

Desire bubbled up, welling over and adding impatience to what had been lazy indolence. 

Their mouths detached and for a moment the only sound was their gasping breaths, out of synch. Douglas leant down and nuzzled at his neck before licking a long line and nibbling gently.

Martin gasped at the sensations flooding, overwhelming, and arched the long column of his throat to give more access. A rumbling hum of approval joined his groan.

“Off. Off.” Martin mumbled tugging ineffectively at Douglas’ pyjama bottoms.

This desperation wasn’t new, it was always there when they had sex, sometimes dampened and quelled, other times softened with laughter, teasing jabs and giggles, most of the time amplified until a glorious release.

They parted to remove their respective articles of clothing until they were bare to the world, or more importantly, bare for each other.

The pitter-patter of the rain was their only audience as they surged together, pressing bare skin from knee to shoulder.

Their jutting arousals didn’t quite line up, Douglas was tall and Martin was...not, but that didn’t diminish from the indescribable feeling.

Without verbal tactic agreement they both gentled their actions, the desperation was still there – the coiling in his groin was testament to that, but for now it was curtailed. They had the rest of the night, or morning, they didn’t need to rush in like teenagers fumbling towards release wary of their parents barging in.

They flopped onto the bed, kissing again, occasionally breaking to lavish attention to a different spot of skin.

Martin shuddered, oversensitive to the casual brushes of those firm hands, as they glanced over his flanks. Douglas got a decidedly evil glint in his eyes that Martin knew to be wary of.

“Don’t-” He warned but Douglas struck.

Fingers (evil, despicable fingers, and to think, he’d just been contemplating them) teased and tormented him, poking and prodding with the ease of a man who had done this many times before and would do it many times again. 

Martin bit back a shriek and attempted to wriggle away from the tickle torture, breathless giggles escaping his throat as his strength failed under such unrelenting torment.

Douglas chuckled above him, pinning him down, seated on his thighs as those instruments of cruelty continued their assault. 

Douglas halted in his tickling attack when Martin just flopped, trying to breathe.

“You took unfair advantage of a weakness.” Martin accused when he finally caught his breath. His voice wasn’t nearly as strong as he would have liked.

Douglas raised a superior eyebrow.

“You expected anything else? And how was it unfair?”

Martin mock glowered but leaned up, resting on one elbow as the other arm he used to draw Douglas into a kiss.

The kiss broke as Douglas yawned. 

Martin grinned. “Tired?” He asked with casual innocence as his hand trailed lazy circles around Douglas’ groin nearly touching the still erect cock but not quite.

“I wasn’t the one who decided to get out of bed at the ungodly hour of three in the morning.” Douglas responded, eyes dark. There was nothing in his voice that even hinted at stopping their activities for the night.

Even so.

“I guess if you’re too tired we can-”

“I’m not that tired. But if you’re tired...” Douglas interrupted with a lazy slow glance up and down Martin’s body that was so intense and filled with promise it was almost a caress.

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to suggest.” Martin said not even bothering to sound put out.

“Go on.” Douglas gave a careless wave of his hand, leaning back indolently.

“Hmmm. That will do.” Martin grinned, leaning over Douglas’ prone form and grabbing the bottle of lube from the bedside table.

He straddled Douglas’ thighs and uncapped the bottle, pouring out some onto his hand to warm it up first.

“Condom?” Douglas questioned.

“Not tonight.” Martin murmured. They were both clean but condoms made sex less messy, so they often used them. 

Douglas groaned, eyes darkening further. He always did like barebacking. Martin did too, the sensations were more pleasurable but...messy.

Large hands ran up his strong thighs and over his lower back before grabbing his arse and squeezing, kneading the flesh. It was Martin’s turn to groan and he rocked against Douglas’ thigh.

“Here.” Martin muttered grabbing one of the _wonderful_ hands and smearing lube over the fingers.

He nearly keened as a finger slowly traced round his perineum, teasing.

He moaned out loud when the first digit entered him in one smooth move. Evidently he wasn’t the only one getting impatient.

Preparation was quick; it didn’t need to be too thorough they were used to the motions now, but effective.

It didn’t take long for Douglas to find his prostate and begin to tease the nub with one finger while the other two stretched him carefully.

Martin took his time slicking up Douglas’ erection, never with quite enough pressure.

They were soon competing to see who could make the other melt into a gooey incoherent pile of bliss first.

Martin was proud to say it was sort of a draw. 

(He may have pulled off of Douglas’ fingers and resisted giving the jutting cock one last tug mere seconds before he became that drooling puddle of a Captain but no one else needed to know that.)

He adjusted himself, moving further up, and held Douglas’ erection steady as he slowly lowered himself onto it, sinking down millimetre by millimetre feeling the thick blunt pressure stretch his insides until he was seated to the hilt.

“Y-you alright?”

It was only at that stuttered question that he realised he had been holding his breath. He felt satisfaction flare at managing to make _Douglas Richardson_ stutter. He laced his fingers with Douglas’ and took deep breaths.

“Fine.” He reassured him. There was a bit of burn from the stretch, he should have spent a bit longer preparing but it wasn’t painful. Martin was just glad there wasn’t a flight booked for the next day.

Martin arched his back and rocked his hips slightly; enjoying the position he was in, so he could take things at his pace. Douglas’ fingers tightened around his own. Oh, this was _fun_. A slightly wicked smile crossed his face.

Martin pulled off Douglas’ cock until only the tip still remained before slowly, even slower than before, he sank back down relishing in the feelings. Douglas groaned.

His back arched involuntarily as his sweet spot was hit and he hissed out.

His thighs wouldn’t thank him if he kept up that movement. Martin settled down, shuddering as he was filled completely.

Douglas unlaced one of their intertwined hands and placed it on Martin’s hip, thumb running over the jutting hip bone. Martin rolled his hips, favouring Douglas with languorous undulations, arching his back whenever his sweet spot was struck.

The slow crest reaching towards his peak was intoxicating, the coil tightening in his groin with tiny increments.

The hand on his hip was tight enough to bruise which was unusual, Douglas wasn’t one to mark up his paramours, he was gentle, but it was the expression on Douglas’ face that clued him in to how much this had _undone_ his lover.

A heady rush of lust filtered through his veins. He had done this. He was the reason that Douglas didn’t have words to speak, that he was simply moaning, groaning and gasping unable to form coherent thought.

It didn’t matter that Martin himself was almost too far gone to even mouth their names because _he had done this to Douglas_. 

He clenched his muscles experimentally, to see if he could _ruin_ the other man.

A guttural groan said he could.

Martin leant forward, keeping his slow, small movements, capturing that mouth with a kiss, plundering it with single minded determination.

He leant back and sped up his movements, actually lifting off of Douglas and back this time. Douglas planted his feet in the mattress and thrust up into him on one of his down strokes.

“Oh!” 

He could feel the tightening in his groin, the pull of his balls and knew he was close. He leaned back a bit, still lifting himself up and down on the turgid length and ran a hand down his front to reach his own arousal, making sure Douglas could see.

He was quite brutal with himself, aiming for release quickly. Douglas’ lips were firming and relaxing in the peculiar way they always did when he was close. He clenched down again, Douglas’ hips gave a judder.

A hand joined his own and together they sloppily jerked him off.

It was a competition, who could be made to come first.

Martin clenched down just as Douglas’ wrist twisted and they were coming. A burst of ropey white shot across Douglas’ chest and Martin felt the surge inside him.

“Oh!”

Martin collapsed forwards onto Douglas’ chest, smearing the mess everywhere without a care. He breathed in and out, calming his heartbeat and feeling a delicious lassitude fall over him.

“That was lovely.” He slurred eventually, eyes slipping shut.

“It was.” Douglas agreed, sounding not nearly as out of it as Martin. “What won’t be nearly so ‘lovely’ is waking up with this stuff stuck to us.” 

Martin ignored him, pressing his face into the firm chest whining when Douglas moved, slipping out of him.

“Come on, get up.”

Martin sleepily acquiesced, getting to his feet slowly, almost stumbling in his daze. It was still raining and the pitter-patter of drops on the windows was a pleasant drone to fall asleep to. If only Douglas would let him.

“Come on, quick shower.”

Douglas bullied and cajoled him into the bathroom and scrubbed them both clean before finally relenting, patting him dry and pushing him into bed.

 

#

 

Douglas sighed as the heat leech next to him shuffled closer in sleep.

The rain thrummed against the window and he felt slightly itchy in his own skin.

He was tired and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, the red haired man at his side but he was restless.

He nudged one of those lanky limbs away from his with fond-irritation. If Martin had just stayed in bed when it began raining then Douglas would still be asleep and not lying awake listening to the soft sounds.

If Martin had just stayed in bed then they probably wouldn’t have indulged in sex. ‘Lovely’ sex, to borrow Martin’s word. Very lovely indeed. And thoroughly satisfying...

So why couldn’t he go back to sleep?!

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah...I can't write porn.
> 
> (Can you tell I wrote this during a thunderstorm?)


End file.
